


Silent Invitation

by alba17



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Community: kink_bingo, Dubious Consent, M/M, Sleep, Sleepy Sex, Unconscious Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:44:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alba17/pseuds/alba17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As he watches Arthur sleeping, Merlin can't help taking things a step farther.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [kink_bingo February Mini-Challenge: Multimedia](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/569477.html), using the sleepy/unconscious square from my 2010 card [here](http://alba17.livejournal.com/130346.html).
> 
> Many thanks to my beta, the lovely jelazakazone.
> 
> The vid that I made for the fic is [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/709890).

Merlin wakes with a start, neck sore from sleeping in the chair. The fire in Arthur’s chambers has died down to glowing embers and Arthur is lightly snoring in his bed. Shaking off his stupor, Merlin starts cleaning up the remains of the evening. They’d shared a few cups of wine in Arthur’s chambers, discussing the events of the day and he must have fallen asleep after Arthur stumbled to the bed. They’ve been doing this more often as Arthur has taken him further into his confidence, chatting over strategies, Merlin spouting opinions that Arthur now seems to consider seriously rather than rejecting out of hand. 

He gathers the cups and dishes and puts them on a tray to take down to the kitchen. Before leaving, he glances at Arthur. The moonlight paints his face with a faint glow and he’s splayed on the bed with the covers thrown off, bare chest displayed. His head rests on the pillow, face turned to the side to reveal his profile. He looks relaxed, so much younger than usual, it makes Merlin sad.

The sight pulls him in like a magnet. Unable to leave, he puts the tray down on the table, and goes over to sit on the bed. Still fuzzy-headed from the wine and the nap, he looks with longing at the pillows against which Arthur snuggles. His own bed isn’t far but he can’t muster the will to drag himself there. 

He watches Arthur sleeping, the rise and fall of his chest. Merlin has always thought Arthur handsome. Over the years, Arthur’s grown into his looks, his features becoming more defined and shedding the last signs of childhood. He’s a beautiful man, his Arthur.

 _His_ Arthur. 

Merlin puts a hand on Arthur’s knee. The coverlet is red velvet and he strokes it, moving his fingers back and forth an inch or two over the hard bone of the kneecap. He sighs and glances at the night sky through the window. Arthur doesn’t stir.

The coverlet maps the angles and lines of Arthur’s body, thighs and feet, hips and waist. Above the folds of cloth lies bare skin. Arthur’s hand is curled in the bedding, silver thumb ring glinting. 

Merlin’s eye follows Arthur’s hand to his wrist, then up his forearm. It’s peppered with fine blond hair and strong with muscle. In the silence, the fire settles and a dog barks outside. Heart hammering at his daring, Merlin ventures a hand up Arthur’s thigh. 

Arthur shifts his head on the pillow and turns it away from Merlin. Merlin holds his breath. Arthur’s eyes remain closed and Merlin lets out the breath.

What is he doing? His hand seems to have taken on a life of its own. He sits for a moment, his hand on Arthur’s thigh, and contemplates his cold bed with its thin blanket. His thumb begins rubbing the red velvet against Arthur’s thigh. Even through the blanket, he can feel the heat of Arthur’s body.

He scoots up the bed so he can look more closely at Arthur’s face. He takes in the details he’s memorised over the years, each tiny line and imperfection unique and endearing in its own way. Without thinking, he slides a hand around Arthur’s neck, low near the collarbone. Eyes still closed, Arthur opens his mouth and licks his lips, then raises his hand to let it hover in the air near Merlin’s chest for a few terrifying seconds. Merlin’s stomach plunges. It seems like hours until the hand drops to the bed and Arthur becomes still and peaceful again.

Merlin exhales loudly but he doesn’t budge from the spot, enchanted as he is by this supine version of Arthur. He could do anything he wants to with him, he thinks, a few hundred ideas running through his head of what delightful mischief he could pull off with his magic in this situation. But he respects Arthur too much for that. He...loves him too much for that.

Yes, love. He’s loved Arthur for a long time, helplessly and without stinting. Their lives have been tied together so tightly and for so long, Merlin forgets that he doesn’t truly possess everything that Arthur has to give. Merlin thinks about the way Arthur sometimes looks at him, eyes hot and intense, hinting at more and Merlin’s body goes up in flames. He remembers the one thing that they’ve never shared, the one thing their closeness doesn’t allow.

Yet.

Merlin will give himself this moment at least, for now. What does it hurt? If Arthur wakes, he can say the blanket had fallen off and he’s putting it back on or Arthur was having a nightmare and called out. 

Merlin smiles fondly at Arthur’s sleep-tousled hair, ruffled over the pillow. He’s always liked it when Arthur’s hair gets messy, disturbing the smooth surface of his royal image. As king, Arthur is normally so on guard, it’s rare to see him vulnerable and relaxed. Even with Merlin, Arthur usually keeps a certain distance. The sight of Arthur asleep and without care, looking young and defenseless...arousing. Merlin’s fingers itch for more.

With his index finger, he traces the dip above Arthur’s collarbone, the triangle of skin between his shoulder and neck, up to the hard muscle on top of his shoulder, eyes darting to Arthur’s face occasionally to make sure he’s still sleeping. The skin here is soft and the movement of his finger mesmerises him. He can’t seem to stop, despite the possibility of Arthur waking.

After a moment, his finger trails up the side of Arthur’s neck, sweeping over the strong cords, the adam’s apple, and back down to the knob of the collarbone. Arthur’s throat is stretched long and vulnerable. Merlin’s gaze flickers back to the adam’s apple, the way it curves, so touchable, and as though in a dream, he leans down and kisses it, soft. 

His lips have never felt Arthur’s skin before. The moment hangs in the air as the reality of what he’s done sinks in. The warmth of the contact lingers on Merlin’s mouth, and he wants more, wants to taste and suck, to possess.

He hovers, his body stretched out alongside Arthur’s, their sides touching from hip to foot. When had that happened? 

As if he senses the contact, Arthur rolls into Merlin with a low groan, eyes still closed, and his hand falls on Merlin’s hip, curling around it. 

Oh god. Arthur’s hand is on his hip. Merlin’s heart beat ratchets up. Arthur has never touched him like this. It’s more intimate than his usual back-slapping. The heat of Arthur’s fingers seeps through Merlin’s trousers and gravitates downward, increasing Merlin’s arousal. His touch breaks down Merlin’s remaining constraints, a silent invitation.

He doesn’t hold back; his lips fall on Arthur’s. He relishes the feel of Arthur’s lips on his own and becomes needy and possessive, hungering for more. He pushes his lips harder into Arthur’s, ventures the tip of his tongue between them. Triumph roars through his bloodstream. 

Arthur mews at the invasion. Merlin freezes, his lips stilling against Arthur’s. Then he feels Arthur’s lips move against his, slight but unmistakable. That’s all that Merlin needs. 

He deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue against Arthur’s, and lets his hands roam over Arthur’s chest, skimming the naked flesh, taut over muscle and bone, hot to the touch. Merlin wants to nuzzle him all over so he can memorise his scent. Eyes still closed, Arthur moans and shifts against the sheets.

Arthur’s passive state incenses him. Merlin wants more, to take and possess as much of Arthur as he can. He pulls the covers down. Arthur’s sleep trousers are made of a light, clinging linen that leaves nothing to the imagination, fabric tight over the swelling of his cock. Without thinking, Merlin’s hand grazes it and his mouth goes dry with want. He imagines Arthur’s cock in his mouth, how it would fill his mouth, the spongy tip, the tang of pre-come. He can barely breathe at the thought of it.

He takes a more deliberate swipe over Arthur’s cock, checks to make sure he’s still asleep. Arthur’s eyes are closed, but his body is stiff in a way that it wasn’t before. Arthur doesn’t stir, despite the thickening of his cock under Merlin’s hand. At this point, Merlin doesn’t know if he’s truly asleep, but the way his body is reacting gives Merlin confidence.

He pulls the coverlet down further, then lays his hands on Arthur’s stomach and caresses the dip from his ribs to his waistband. He has to squeeze his own erection to prevent himself from moaning out loud.

Unable to resist any longer, he leans over to touch his lips to Arthur’s heavy erection, mouthing it through the thin fabric. He can feel the heft of it and his mouth waters at the thought of tasting it. 

He slips down Arthur’s trousers, slides them down over his jutting cock. Surely Arthur can feel this, the cool air on the tender skin, but he doesn’t react. It’s hard to pull the trousers down any farther without Arthur lifting his hips, so the material gathers below Arthur’s erection.

With his fingers, Merlin circles the knobs of Arthur’s hip bones, eyes the fine pale skin stretching down to the groin, where Arthur’s cock rises out of a thatch of coarse light brown hair. He darts a look up to Arthur’s face. His eyelids flicker and there’s a slight movement of his hand, but otherwise nothing. Merlin breathes a sigh of relief, then returns his attention back to Arthur’s cock.

His fingers draw down the flushed, hard length as he nestles in place along Arthur’s body. He settles an arm over Arthur’s thighs, then leans over to slip the cockhead into his mouth. 

The taste and the bulk of it in his mouth make him close his eyes, the intimacy of it so much more overwhelming than he expected. He can’t believe this is happening, that he’s actually sucking Arthur’s cock and Arthur’s letting him. He swallows down more of it, so it pushes towards the back of his mouth and starts working his lips where they envelope the shaft. He wants to eat it, swallow it down, to own Arthur and give him as much pleasure as he possibly can. He wonders whether Arthur has ever let a man do this. Would he want it if he were fully awake? The way Arthur looks at him sometimes...it makes him wonder. It feels like every part of him is concentrated in that gaze and when it’s directed full-bore at Merlin, his spine tingles and his magic rises, the way it is right now, sparking in his gut. Arthur draws it out in him, always has.

He pulls Arthur’s cock further in, so it’s almost in his throat and the bitter bite of pre-come hits the back of his tongue. At the same time, he strokes the base of Arthur’s erection and dips his fingers down to caress Arthur’s tightening balls. With every touch, his love for Arthur intensifies, becomes more real and concrete. Now that he’s expressing it physically, it seems like an entirely new thing, burnished like gold.

When Arthur groans out loud, Merlin’s too far gone to stop. His cock is bulging against his trousers and he’s almost rutting against the bed in his excitement, magic simmering under his skin. He _knows_ Arthur is enjoying this. His body doesn’t lie. Merlin could use his magic to make Arthur forget, but he won’t do that. He couldn’t, not to Arthur. In the end, getting everything out in the open might be a relief.

Arthur’s hand falls on Merlin’s head. Panic sizzles through Merlin and he stills his mouth and hands, waiting for Arthur to pull him off and jump out of the bed in horror. Instead Arthur begins stroking his hair and pushes his hips up into Merlin’s mouth. After a moment, he starts again, increasing the pressure of his lips and the movement of his tongue. He gives himself to it, savouring Arthur’s unique taste and working his mouth with all the finesse he can muster.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispers, and the sound of it goes straight to Merlin’s heart. Arthur’s hand tightens on Merlin’s hair and his upper thighs stiffen under Merlin’s ministrations. Merlin can’t breathe. His own cock aches. He digs his fingers into Arthur’s thigh and concentrates on breathing through his nose and not gagging. 

This is happening. They’re crossing a frontier from which there’s no return.

Arthur’s entire body arches up and Merlin makes sure to keep up the pressure, allowing himself to free his magic. He wraps a strand of it around Arthur’s cock, ripping a groan from Arthur’s throat, and it’s every fantasy he’s ever had come to life. There’s no doubt in his mind that his magic was made for Arthur. He can’t _not_ use it, can’t imagine suppressing it right now. It feels so right. The sounds that Arthur’s making, the enraptured expression on his face, it all pulls Merlin’s magic from him, teases from him in spiraling tendrils that make Merlin quiver.

The magic tips Arthur over the edge and he moans loudly while Merlin holds down his jerking hips, then strokes him through the last of his climax. Merlin pulls off and rests his head on Arthur’s stomach, heart in his throat and fearful of looking at Arthur. He feels so close to Arthur right now, with the taste of his come in his mouth, lips swollen from sucking his cock, his own cock engorged and throbbing with desire. He wants desperately for Arthur to be all right with this, dares to hope this isn’t the only time it will happen.

In the silence that follows, he can feel the rise and fall of Arthur’s stomach as he breathes, the heat of his body. 

“Merlin,” Arthur murmurs, as he pulls Merlin up. “Come here.” Arthur tucks Merlin into his side with an arm around his shoulders. Their eyes meet and Merlin can feel himself flushing red. “You have secret talents.” Arthur strokes Merlin’s jaw and Merlin’s chest floods with warmth. Maybe it’s going to be okay. Arthur’s hand closes on Merlin’s waist. “I think we’ve wasted a lot of time,” he says with shining, fond eyes. 

Merlin smiles. Maybe more than okay.

“I think I should give you a knighthood after that,” Arthur says. He smiles back.

Merlin chuckles. “So you’re alright with this?”

Arthur kisses him tenderly on the lips. “You would’ve known if I wasn’t.”

Merlin relaxes. Thank god.

Arthur traces Merlin’s lips. “That mouth, Merlin. It’s like magic.”

Merlin suppresses a giggle. If Arthur only knew. Maybe some day.


End file.
